Superman
by Tarawyn
Summary: Original rewritten. Sirius is in Azkaban, wondering about the impossibilities of life...and wondering about his life in general. The original was my first piece of fanfiction, this is not.


**A/N:** Thank you Ady for the base idea and Five for Fighting for writing the song. It's a fic about Sirius when he was in Azkaban. Handful of small problems with the original, so I've renovated it. It was my first fic, so I didn't want to for awhile...oh, well. This song is fitting individually, but not in final characteristics, to the character...but it does.   
  
**Disclaimer:** Five for Fighting owns the song, JK Rowling owns Sirius and co. Need I say more?   
  
Sirius was staring out of his cell. Being in Azkaban wasn't as torturous for him as with others, but it was bad enough. He had been here for years, living a life of nothingness. Why, why in the world had he thought giving the honor of Secret-Keeper to Pettigrew would save his friend's life? Heroism could only go so far..  
  
_I can't stand to fly,  
  
_ Being in Azkaban had given him a somewhat murderous nature that he was ashamed of. He hated it, but it was unreversable. Memories ran through his mind day and night...Pettigrew, accusing him, Pettigrew, killing the people, Pettigrew, escaping, and his capture. That and his obsession with being innocent. But the obsession was to keep him alive, and only that; he hardly believed himself now.  
  
_I'm not that naive.  
  
_ Everything had been so near perfect. True, Voldemort was running about, but he had his friends, he had James, Lily, Remus, he had even had Arabella; he had the ones who understood him even when no one else would. And then...all lost, and no way to regain. Not that he wouldn't have tried.  
  
_I'm just out to find  
  
_ His heart was tearing between despair and anger. Despair, from the losses...he had missed James more than anything. His childhood playmate, his honarary brother, his partner of mischief...and then his supporter, his confider, his lifelong friend...gone, gone forever. And then anger...he had landed himself here, because of Pettigrew. Pettigrew, James, and himself. He had only wanted to be the best he could be...  
  
_The better part of me.  
  
_ As long as he could remember, James has always been the best, though Sirius either matched him or was close behind. People had loved them, laughed with them, and had above all respected them. Though some people had not, (Like Snape, he thought ruefully) the ones who had were enough. Sirius had hated the honor when he had it...he still did, but now...  
  
_I'm more than a bird, I'm more than a plane,  
More than some pretty face beside a train,  
And it's not easy to be me...   
  
_ Sirius had always tried not to show too many emotions. Fear, though rarely there, was so hard to hide. Sadness was even harder, but he had tried never to show, because of what people would say.  
  
_Wish that I could cry,  
Fall upon my knees,  
  
_ Even worse than emotions were the lies. There were lies he had wanted to tell so many times...not be Sirius, not be James' friend, James' supporter...people knew him because of James, and however much it hurt to admit it, he had been tired, upon occasion, of being his friend's shadow. And even his guilt couldn't overwhelm things he knew true.  
  
_Find a way to lie  
'Bout a home I'll never see.   
  
_ Sirius spent so much time thinking of his old life. Heroism was fine, but it wasn't anything to get excited over. There had been times that he had simply wanted to be a nobody, and only James had known. Being nobody, while not exactly fun, was better than being someone and being expected to live up to a standard. Bloody standards. He had lived up to them...but how much did it matter?  
  
_It may sound absurd…but don't be naive  
Even Heroes have the right to bleed  
  
_ His dreams had changed more than anything else. He had wanted, more than anything else, to find a way to defeat the Dark wizards. Now, all he wanted was to be free. And kill Pettigrew...but being free was much higher on the list of priorities.  
  
_I may be disturbed…but won't you concede,  
Even Heroes have the right to dream,  
  
_ And, of course, it wasn't a valid option. He was in here for life, remember? Because of that traitor...that traitor, who hadn't only ruined James' life, but his own, and all of there's...damn.  
  
_It's not easy to be me.  
  
_ Sometimes Sirius felt utterly rejected. This wasn't a feeling of the dementors, but a feeling of personality. It was really rejection...untried, undealt, unfair rejection.  
_Up, up and away…away from me,  
Well it's all right,  
  
_ Everyone was happy with him gone. He hated it, he dreaded it, but it was true. Worse was the feeling that Lupin and Arabella had both rejected him. Not to mention the entire wizarding world. But especially them...Remus, who, while not the closest friend, he had been able to understand his thoughts a majority of the times. And Arabella...well, he didn't want to think about his former fiance. But it was normal, wasn't it? To have friends, to fall in love? Of course, it wasn't exactly normal to end up in Azkaban, much less falsely accused, but that didn't mean he was insane.  
  
_You can all sleep sound tonight,  
I'm not crazy…or anything…   
  
_ When the feeling of rejection came, the other feelings flooded back. He was glad he was an Animagi, and didn't have to be subject to dementors. Sometimes the nicer feelings came...the tricks he'd play, James and Lily's wedding day, when he and James had been one up on Snape, and when he had been able to talk to carry. Sometimes, the other feelings, not involving himself...when Voldemort first came to power, when his parents had been killed, when that Ravenclaw had been first to die...  
  
_I can't stand to fly,  
  
_ Sometimes he wished for his death, but whenever the memories came, good or bad, he felt as if he had to live on...not that he understood why. For some reason, there was sometimes the crazy notion he wouldn't be here forever. A laugh, but something to think about.  
  
_I'm not that naive.  
  
_ Staring through the bars, he realized, for the first time, however absurd it may have seemed, that he hadn't deserved this. His life had been thrown away carelessly, for no reason. He hadn't deserved this, but he hadn't deserved heroism. What he deserved? He deserved a chance to be himself. Whoever that was. If he was even a person anymore. He hardly felt human, after all this time. Probably because he spent the majority of his time as a dog.  
  
_Men weren't meant to ride  
With clouds between their knees  
  
_ Once again, but for the first time seriously, he thought of escaping. He wasn't escaping for his life--he knew there was a chance Pettigrew was alive, and he knew for a fact he had, or at least wanted, to avenge his friend's death.  
_I'm only a man in a silly red sheet,  
  
_ More than that, he wanted to protect his godson, James' son, the one he was indept to protect. The protection would never be easy, but it would be something to live for...more than living on the obsession he hardly believed. And he owed it to James, the person he had indirectly killed. It was a one-way street, inspite of things: either go, or stay forever.   
_Digging for kryptonite on this one way street,  
  
_ He knew he could escape, but it would be so hard...forget hard, try impossible...and once he escaped, he knew there was no way to be safe, or protect himself. And he couldn't exactly say Pettigrew was alive. If he was to escape, he'd have to plan it. Oh, well, why bother? Chances of escaping where at about zero. If he needed to think about it, he would. But right now, he'd concentrate on being alive.  
  
_Only a man in a funny red sheet,  
  
_ And again, he realized his safety didn't quite matter. All that mattered was that he could finish his life feeling worth something, and knowing he deserved life. And knowing he had a life outside of this gray cell.  
  
_Looking for special things inside of me...  
  
_ And time passed, the Minister came, and maybe things would get better, and maybe not, but for now, his life had a small turn for the better. And in a life with so much hurt, the little things counted.  
  
_It's not easy to be me.   
  
_


End file.
